


Venus De Milo

by Mottled_System



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Art, Artists, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Issues, Grandparent Sheev Palpatine, I Mean He's A Little Slimy, OnlyFans, Sculpture, Sex Work, Sex Worker Ben Solo, Sheev Palpatine Is A Good Guy, Step-parents, agalmatophilia, but his heart is in the right place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29745180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottled_System/pseuds/Mottled_System
Summary: Ben Solo is an artist and a creator on OnlyFans- he goes by 'Kylo Ren' on OF- just trying to get by and showcase his beloved art.Rey Kenobi, the god-daughter of Padme and Anakin, finds this mysterious Kylo Ren and subcribes, leaving a tip, entirely unaware that he is the grandson of her god-father.Eventually, when he showcases his latest masterpiece at the gallery she works at, they meet and instantly butt heads... But, one night, when he unexpectedly finds her doing strange things to his art piece, they find that they have more in common than either of them could have expected.Fluff and kink and smut, not so much enemies to lovers but certainly snarky to lovers.
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

Ben’s fetish, as many do, had started off entirely innocently.

He’s always been an artist. As a child, one of the few things his parents could give him to calm him down was Play-Doh. He moved onto air-dry clay in middle school. As he grew older, he moved onto more refined methods of sculpting. Throughout it all, though, he had always had a fascination with bodies- sculpting them, creating them, the strange and subtle planes and contours of bodies of all shapes and sizes.

Most early fetishes turn sexual around puberty, but Ben’s took a turn a few years later at sixteen when he had had a rather peculiar exchange with someone on, of all things, Omegle. He had been talking about his latest piece, a small figurine inspired by the Venus de Milo, and she had laughed at him and said he probably jacked off to the statues because he couldn’t get a girlfriend and that’s as close to a real woman as he could ever get.

At first he had hated it when, while jacking off, his thoughts would stray to a statue- usually, the Venus de Milo- and he would angrily stop, or desperately try to redirect his thoughts. He’d come more to peace with the thoughts when he’d gotten his first long-term girlfriend and confided in her and she’d said it was actually pretty sweet.

He doesn’t sculpt the statues to fuck them, or to want to. He sculpts men, and women and non-binary bodies he isn’t sexually attracted to, and it is just as meaningful a process as those who could be considered his type. His art and his… Proclivity… Are entirely separate things.

He sits now in his art studio, which in reality is just the space in his uncle’s garage that doesn’t house his grandfather’s old Thunderbird. His father and Uncle Luke are just outside the door, talking low and seemingly under the impression that Ben can’t hear every word they say.

“He’s gotta get out of there, Han,” Luke says.

“He’s working on it, alright?” Dad defends. “He just got enough money to get a place of his own to stay. Give him a little while to save up for a real studio.”

“It took him two years to save up enough for the apartment! It’s a studio apartment, Han, it’s not that hard- don’t look at me like that, alright? It’s not my fault he’d rather waste his money on video games and weed rather than actually doing the things to further his pipe-dream of a career-”

“Hey, now,” Han says, his voice low and lethal. “That’s my son you’re talking about, Luke. I’d pick my next words real carefully.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Luke says. “It’s just- I earned this house. I earned this garage. I worked my ass off in the military and I work hard everyday.”

Han sighs. “Just… Let him stay a few more months. Chewie’s reno will be done in three months, max.”

It’s Luke’s turn to sigh. “Fine.”

“Alright,” Han says. “I’ve gotta get home, Leia’s waiting on groceries to start dinner. Oh- and, just… Don’t tell her, or Ben, that I stopped by, alright?”

“You’re not going to stop by?”

“No, Luke, obviously not.”

Ben swivels in his chair, turning his attention away from their conversation with a heavy sigh. He studies his latest piece- it’s probably his new favorite. It depicts Hephaestus and Aphrodite, the former presenting his wife with a stunning sword and her delighted, loving reaction, her fingers buried in his hair. It’s beautiful enough, at least in his own opinion, to be in a museum.

This is how he should be making his money. He doesn’t mind OnlyFans- actually, he likes it quite a bit- but it should be a hobby, not his main source of income.

After he starts getting art revenue, he’s going to make his OnlyFans free.

Speaking of OnlyFans- the alarm on his phone begins to ding, reminding him that it’s time to post his daily photoset. He takes them all at once at the beginning of the week, but he posts each set once a day.

As he uploads it, he notices someone left him a tip on his last set- $100.

Out of curiosity, he clicks on the profile- a woman, from what he can tell. He looks at her picture and blinks in surprise. She’s stunning, with a heart shaped face and big, hazel eyes. Her cheeks are chiseled, her jaw sharp. She looks like a sculpture in and of herself.

He considers shooting her a message- 100 dollars is a lot of money. That’s, like, half of a down payment for an art studio. But he glances at her picture again, her stunning face, and sighs, setting his phone down.

He can’t. Just because she likes the pictures of him doesn’t mean she’d have any interest talking to him, and he’d learned long ago that he couldn’t be trusted to figure out whether or not someone liked him. He sets his phone down and looks over at the sculpture again.

Besides, he’s got work to do- he has to find a gallery willing to showcase this piece. It’s too good, he loves it too much, to get rid of it just yet, but that was fine- showcasing his sculptures, especially ones like this, always gave him a boost in sales. With yet another sigh, he begrudgingly goes to his phone book to start calling local galleries that have worked with him before.


	2. Chapter 2

Rey is absolutely ready to pull her hair out as she sits behind her desk. Her one moment of peace- of quiet- for the _entire_ , long, impossible, stressful day- is being interrupted.

She should never have taken this promotion- she knew it would be too much for her, too soon. And, on top of that, she was working without an assistant, and her grandfather had offered no clue as to when he may get around to hiring one.

She had been fine two moments ago, perfectly calm and content. She takes a few moments to compose herself, a very difficult feat with her telephone’s obnoxious buzzing- before picking up the phone and, in her cheeriest voice, says - “Sidious Art Gallery, Rey Kenobi speaking. How may I be of assistance?”

“Ah, hello,” says a deep, slightly anxious voice. “I, ah- I’m an artist, Ben Solo, I’ve, ah, worked with the gallery before and, ah, I was wondering if-”

Rey glances at the note her grandfather had left, searching it for Ben Solo- he’s one of the highest artists on the lists, with the words  _ Collector favorite, poor communication skills _ jotted beside it.

Well, she had already gathered that last bit.

“Yes, Mr. Solo,” Rey says in her chipper work voice. “You were a bit of a minor celebrity last time. It was, oh, about- how long ago?-”

“Four months,” the man says hurriedly, hopefully. “Yeah, it was- ah, great. Yeah.”

“What can I help you with?”

“I’ve, ah- forgive me, I’m kind of bad at this- but I’ve just, ah, I’ve finished another piece and was wondering if you- the gallery- might be interested in showcasing it for a while, if you’ve got any openings?”

Rey moves the phone away to sigh in relief before quickly composing herself. “As a matter of fact, we’ve got a show next week with a few openings! If you send me your email, we can exchange details and you can show images of the piece, and I can see if we can work together to figure something out.”

“Great, yeah- thank you so much.”

Rey jots down his email beside his notes and happily bids him farewell before adding his phone number as well. “Well, at least that’s one thing off of my plate…”

She revels in the rest of her lunch break before begrudgingly turning to her computer once more to write Ben an email.

  
  


[ ben.o.solo.1989@gmail.com ](mailto:ben.o.solo@gmail.com) , 

RE: Your Showcasing Inquiry

Hello, sir! This is Rey Kenobi of Sidious Art Gallery emailing you for the details of your art piece that you had requested be showcased in our gallery.

Enclosed is a .pdf file for you to fill out regarding information about your piece, which I’m sure you will recall from last time. Please send it back to me at your earliest convenience.

As I see you have worked well with us before, I have also attached a brief summary of the pieces we are looking for for our event. If you have any works available that match up with what we are looking for, we would be more than happy to take a look at those as well.

Thank you kindly for your time.

Regards, Rey Kenobi

[ rkpsidiousartgallery@gmail.com ](mailto:rkpsidiousartgallery@gmail.com)

Art Curator at Sidious Art Gallery

Eventually, she received a response from him, and opened it to find a brief email thanking her as well as several forms filled out with attached pictures of the pieces. She emailed them each to their appropriate curator- none of them were her area- and went on with her day.

Until, right before clicking out of the page showing one of his sculptures, she paused and blinked. The walls in the background were a sunny orange, the floor chic concrete covered in painter’s tarp and multicolored paint splashes. There was a modern plant in the corner with a very unique vase. The industrial chandelier that hung at the edge of the picture was stunning and sleek. She didn’t recognize the beautiful sculpture in the center- a harrowing, strangely melancholic piece reminiscent of Alexandros of Antioch’s work- but the rest of the picture felt almost insanely familiar.

She furrowed her brow as she studied it, the stucco texture of the wall… The dim, flattering lighting…

“Oh, my God.”

It’s Kylo Ren. This is the background from his latest set! He had been wearing nothing but a disheveled art smock, strange and multicolored stripes placed suggestively around his muscular body…

Rey’s face burns crimson as she grabs her phone to check hurriedly, but she’s certain- so certain of it. She’d just seen his post not an hour before she’d taken her lunch, thought about what she was going to do to herself when she got home, when she had free time and these lovely images on her phone and a new, disposable income from her new, cushy wage…

And of course she’s right. She looks between her computer screen and her phone screen, and of course, it’s the exact same- same lighting, same angle. In the OnlyFans pictures, Kylo Ren- Ben Solo?- was standing in the same place as the statue, looking not sad but utterly intimidating, utterly suggestive, and just as beautiful, just as hand-crafted.

She’s baffled as her mind fights to reconcile Kylo Ren’s daunting persona and Ben Solo’s awkward, unsure demeanor.

Then, however, there is a sudden knock on her door and she nearly jumps out of her seat. She places a hand over her racing heart and quickly hides her phone before inviting whoever it is in.

To be caught looking at  _ that _ in the middle of the day would have been mortifying, especially when she sees who it is- her father. She smiles at him too bright, too eager to move on from that. He notices and cops an amused smile as he gently closes the door behind himself. “Hello there,” he says in greeting.

“Hi, Dad,” Rey says, relaxing slightly as he sits across from her. He is a sight for sore eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, I’m visiting my daughter,” Dad says, placing one of the two coffees he holds in front of her. She thanks him quietly and takes a grateful sip. “Your  _ mother _ told me about your new promotion- last week, was it?” His eyes are playful, his tone light-hearted, but Rey sighs and looks at him with apologetic eyes regardless.

“I’m  _ so _ sorry, Dad. I’ve been moving at a hundred kilos per minute just trying to keep up- can you believe it? I mean, it’s terrible, but it’s great, and it pays well and it’s so rewarding and I- did you know Johnson quit because his assistant did and they couldn’t find a replacement? And they still haven’t, they just moved me here instead?”

Dad sighs gently, apologetically. “I’m sorry, Rey. I did warn you about your grandfather, did I not?”

Rey sighs, too. “Yes, Dad. And I already knew.” She digs her fingers into her eyes, rubs her face. “It’s so bad that Padme offered to come to work with me, but she’s so happy now that Anakin’s retired and is home with her more…”

“There are always other galleries, you know.”

“Of course I know. But Grandpa’s about to retire, and then Mom will be in charge. And you know her- she couldn’t run a place like this. I know I’ll have a better time then, when I’ll be the one practically running this place.”

“But,” Dad says in his playfully matter-of-fact voice, the one that is both charming and deeply grating. “You’ll have entirely too much responsibility between being an art curator  _ and _ doing your mother’s job.”

Rey doesn’t respond, just sighs once more and collapses gently onto her desk. “Why would you let me grow up, old man?”

Dad laughs heartily, the crinkles beside his eyes growing deeper. The father and daughter look at each other with a warm, kind fondness. “I don’t know, kid. I would have stopped it if I could have.”

Rey reaches out and squeezes her father’s hand, finding comfort in it as she so often did. “I love you, Daddy,”

“I love you, too.”


End file.
